Far Inland
by rebecca-in-blue
Summary: "Finnick, this isn't their fault, either. You know they're just landlubbers." In their hotel room during Catching Fire, Finnick and Mags talk about Katniss and Peeta.


This is set shortly after Finnick and Katniss's first meeting in _Catching Fire_. It's meant as a little tribute to Finnick and Mags's relationship, which I've always thought doesn't get enough love. It's also my entry for the "Random Opener Challenge" at Writers Anonymous forum.

**-x-**

All right, maybe it wasn't the best way to start off a conversation. Finnick realizes that later, as he recounts his conversation with Katniss to Mags. Mags, of course, knows him well enough to tell when he's lying or holding back, so Finnick tells her everything - how he approached Katniss before the procession, held a handful of sugar cubes out to her, and asked to know her secrets in his sexiest voice. Looking back now, adding it all up, Finnick realizes that he's probably made Katniss hate him.

Finnick and Mags have just arrived in their suite of rooms in the hotel above the training center. It's the evening after the opening ceremonies, and through the wide windows in their sitting room, they can see twilight falling over the skyscrapers of the Capitol.

Mags doesn't say that she disapproves of his conversation with Katniss, but of course Finnick knows her well enough to tell. She just frowns and rubs her temple with one wrinkled hand. "And you did all this while you were nearly naked?" she asks.

"Well, it's not _my_ fault the stylists made me wear that stupid fishing net," Finnick huffs, shifting on the sofa. "I couldn't even sit down in that thing." His stylists were constantly forcing him into scanty outfits, but dressing him in a fishing net for the opening ceremonies had set a new low even for them. It wasn't even made of rope, but some delicate golden material that would've crumpled immediately if anyone tried to actually fish with it. _Stupid landlubbers,_ Finnick thought scornfully.

Mags picks up her cane from where it's leaning against the wall, crosses the room, and sits down beside him on the sofa. "We need Katniss and Peeta to trust us, Finnick," she says, patting his knee. "Just...try not to antagonize them, okay?" Finnick fidgets under her hand, anxious to discuss their plan for the arena in more detail, but they're both too certain that the suite has been bugged for that.

"Chaff kissed her today, after the procession," he blurts out suddenly, before he can stop himself. "He kissed Katniss right on the mouth. Did you see it?"

Mags shakes her silver head, and Finnick's body stiffens beside her. He suddenly can't bear to sit still another minute, and he gets up from the sofa and rushes over to the window. Lights are coming on in the tall, gleaming buildings of the Capitol as darkness falls across the city. The Capitol is always so lit up at night that Finnick can never see the stars here, like he can over the sea back home. He can't see any water, either, not this far inland.

Finnick happened to be watching when Chaff kissed Katniss earlier that day, and her reaction is still bothering him. The way she had jerked back from Chaff, her young face so shocked and offended... Finnick replays it over and over in his mind, and it makes his stomach feel as choppy as the sea on a rough day. Katniss is seventeen, not that much younger than Finnick, but when_ he_ was her age, he was already being forced to his knees in front of whatever sleazy Capitol citizen had just paid the highest price to spend a night with him.

But that was all it took to offend Katniss, just one little kiss on the mouth. Finnick had been that innocent once, too. He had been that untouched and pure. It hadn't even been that long ago, but it felt so far away that just remembering it made Finnick ache like a piece of him had been ripped out. He sees his reflection in the window glass, his own face superimposed over the city lights shining in the dark, and he has to look away, unable to meet his own eyes.

Mags is quiet, but Finnick can feel her eyes watching him, concerned, and that makes him feel even worse. He shouldn't let himself be comforted by an eighty-year-old woman who's probably going to die in the arena in a few d-

But Finnick jerks away from that thought quickly, as if he's just touched the tentacles on a jellyfish. _You will not think about that. You will not._

"Finnick, there's a swimming pool somewhere in this hotel, isn't there?" Mags asks abruptly, distracting him just when he needs it most. "Why don't you go find it and have a swim while I order us some dinner? It'll clear your head."

The idea does make some of the tension leak out of his body. It would be nice to go swimming again for a little while, even if it's just in a Capitol swimming pool instead of the ocean, where his eyes will burn from chlorine instead of saltwater. Being in the water always clears his head, and when he turns around to look at Mags again, he's actually smiling.

"All right," he agrees, "but just don't order any Capitol food. Not for me, anyway. I want... I want something that tastes like home."

Mags has fetched one of the order-in menus from the kitchen. The room service in this hotel is as excellent as everything else in the Capitol. "Fine," she says, flipping it open. "I'll order you a big plate of crabs."

Now Finnick's smile turns into a full grin. He pictures himself smashing crabs open, yanking their legs off, and splattering crabmeat all over himself and the walls until Mags has to chide him to eat more neatly, like a mother with a little boy. And suddenly, he knows how to fix the damage done by his conversation with Katniss today, and maybe even how to win her trust. "And Mags," he says, "when we go down to the training center tomorrow, I'll introduce you to Katniss. Peeta too, if he's around. They'll like you. Everyone likes you."

"Mm, that's very true," Mags agrees, still flipping through the menu. Mags has a very different brand of charm than Finnick does, but like him, she knows how to turn it on. Sometimes she can actually get women in the Capitol to say, "Oh, isn't she the cutest little old lady," in the same voice they would use for a baby or a puppy. Whenever Finnick hears it, he smirks and almost laughs. Anyone who thinks of Mags as _cute_ has no idea what a tough old battle-ax she can be.

"And you can put in a good word for me with them."

Now Mags looks up at him. She gives him a small, sad smile, and Finnick doesn't understand why until she says gently, "Honey, they won't be able to understand me."

Finnick's face falls. It's true that Mags's speech has never been quite the same since her stroke, but he and Annie have come to understand her so well that he forgets that she's still unintelligible to most people. Even Johanna usually has to look to him and whisper, "Finnick, what did she just say?" And Katniss and Peeta have never even met Mags before. Will they be able to understand one word of what she says?

Finnick glances back at the window, and he wonders if Katniss and Peeta are looking out at this same view right now. They're in this same hotel, only a few floors above him and Mags. Whatever they're doing, they're blissfully unaware of what's really going on, and Finnick suddenly despises them for it. They know nothing of the plan to get them out of the arena alive, at any costs. They know nothing of the sacrifices that the other people are prepared to make.

Even before his handsome face curls into an ugly scowl, Mags can tell that he's getting angry. She says in the same gentle voice, "Finnick, this isn't their fault, either. You know they're landlubbers."

_Landlubbers._ Back in their home district, the word is considered one of the worst insults, but Finnick can tell, of course, that Mags doesn't mean it in a negative way. He looks back at her and blinks, confused. "So?" He knows that Katniss and Peeta come from a district with hardly any water, but what does that have to do with it?

Mags puts the menu down and steps closer to him. Her eyes are as blue as the sea and almost as old, but still as sharp and focused as ever. "So landlubbers can only see what's on the surface," she says slowly. "What's floating right on top. They can't tell how deep things might go or how strong the current could be. That's why we need them to trust us, do you see?"

Finnick nods slowly as her words find their aim, and his anger at Katniss and Peeta leaks away. "You're always right, Mags," he mumbles.

"Mm, that's very true," she says again, smiling, and then her voice goes back to casual. "Now, I'm going to order you some steamed vegetables with your crabs, and... Finnick, didn't I tell you to go find the swimming pool?"

A little while later, Finnick is swimming hard in the pool on one of the hotel's lower floors. The chemicals are so strong that he doesn't open his eyes underwater, and he hates how clean and empty the water is, with no fish or seaweed brushing his legs, no matter now deep he dives. It's nothing like the ocean back home, but it still feels good. He can swim even faster than usual without a current, and the water seems to rush right inside his head and wash away every thought, every worry, every fear about what's going to happen in the arena. The water is like Mags: it's always been there for him, and in it, he doesn't have to think about how he's going to navigate life when Mags isn't there for him anymore.

**-x-**

_Finnick appears again when I'm picking up fishing tips, but mostly just to introduce me to Mags, the elderly woman who's also from District 4..._


End file.
